Another Typical, Unexpected High School Romance
by Zelda-FF
Summary: Junior Alfred F. "Jones" Kirkland, according to his father, needs a tutor for math because of a sudden drop in grades. Sophomore Kiku Honda is a star student dragged into tutoring him. He should have seen this cliche coming. -discontinued until further notice.
1. Chapter 1

Oh hey, a new story. xDD And yes, that will be the title until/if I find a better one.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

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_"Bloody_-Alfred, what is this 'D' on your report card for?" When there was no reply, the British man turned from his position at the stove to his son sitting at the counter just behind him. His thick brows furrowed disapprovingly as he discovered the sixteen-year-old fixated on some sort of electronic in his hands. "Alfred Franklin Kirkland, look at me when I'm talking to you!"

The order was to no avail; his son refused to respond. He was ready to box the boy about the ears until he noticed thin white cords cascading from inside Alfred's hoodie. Arthur cursed technology under his breath and stomped to the opposite side of the island, reached across, and tore the earbuds out. In an attempt to intimidate the teen, his sharp green glare bored into his sons' pretty blues.

The man couldn't help but be reminded of his ex-wife every time he simply looked at Alfred. He'd received his somewhat unruly hair from his father, very different from his mother's wavy locks, but both he and his twin brother were graced with her deep blue eyes. Arthur felt his heart twinge as he remembered his other son; he did his best to pretend he only had one child but he was only one step from the mere thought of Frances Bonnefoy.

To his relief, Alfred's curiosity pulled him from his reverie. "What? Why are you starin' at me like that?"

Slightly embarrassed, the man quickly broke eye contact. He retained his wrath, however, as he shoved the progress report into the student's hands. As his blue eyes skimmed over the page, his father returned to his previous scowling. Surprisingly, he didn't look all too concerned at his grades, maintaining an apathetic expression until he put it down.

"And?" Alfred asked, quirking an eyebrow slightly.

The grown man barely managed to contain his fury and tried to remain 'civil' with his son. "A-are you pleased with your grades?" he forced, the strain evident in his voice.

As if he'd forgotten already, the adolescent let his blue eyes fall upon the paper again for just a moment before returning his father's gaze. God was certainly testing Arthur Kirkland that day, for in an indifferent tone he replied, "I dunno...Should I be?"

"Absolutely not! Look again at your Algebra grade, if you would." he couldn't help but raise his voice; his son couldn't be this dull, could he? No, he wasn't. Maybe a bit slow at times, but he was a bright boy. Arthur remembered just a year before when the all-American child had been so proud to make it into a higher level of math for his junior year. It'd been much more work, but since recently Alfred was managing at least 'B's.

The British man had also noticed the growing isolationism of his son. Though they had never been "close" in any sense of the word, the sixteen-year-old seemed to be pushing him away even more. They had small talk at meals, but he had abruptly stopped bringing up personal or school matters. As distasteful the way Alfred spoke with his mouth full was, Arthur missed the enthusiastic recollections of his school day.

For the life of him, he had no idea what the matter was with his son. Could it be that "teenage syndrome" all the other parents talked about? It had to be, he decided. No life-shattering experiences had occurred recently; had it not been for this, last month would have been exactly the same in terms of un-eventfulness.

"Did you find it?" he prompted, unsettled by the out-of-the-ordinary silence that had enveloped Alfred.

"Yeah." was the monotone reply. He refused to look up into the fixed emerald daggers.

"Well, are you proud of it?"

Arthur was met with silence, rather pleased with himself. The intimidation factor-or guilt trip, he'd tried that as well-had worked, apparently. Even though bullying his son into a mute had been his main objective, he also pitied the poor boy. Alfred was normally a good student, after all. The man was disappointed for sure, but wasn't completely heartless to his son's melancholy.

Silence suffocated the pair for a bit, and the elder returned to the frying pan to find strips of charcoal where bacon was just minutes before. "_Bollocks,_" he hissed, frantically turning off the burner and moving the pan of ruined breakfast.

"Didja screw it up again?" a slightly amused voice wondered, the owner craning his neck to see around the aproned figure of his father.

"Of course not!" Arthur snapped, "The bacon will just be a tad bit crispier this morning..."

He transported half of the food to his plate and the other to Alfred's, joining the buttered English muffins on each. The man set the one in front of his son, who crinkled his nose in disgust, and the other on the countertop where he had been standing earlier. They both picked up their drinks of choice-Earl Grey for Arthur and orange juice for Alfred-and took identical sips before hesitantly digging into the unfortunate meal.

After braving the blackened breakfast and a half-hearted 'thanks' from Alfred, Arthur reached over to examine the report card once more. He hadn't noticed the slight reduction in other subjects for the dramatic decrease in math, but now that he looked at it more carefully there were far more 'B's than there were the last time one was sent home.

"Alfred, I'm finding a tutor for you." he abruptly stated, ignoring the immediate expression of protest on his son's face.

"_What?_ No way-"

"Yes way, and no playing that sorry excuse for cricket-"

"_Baseball!_"

"-in the spring unless you bring your grade in Algebra up to at least a 'B'. It wouldn't hurt to try to get 'A's in your other subjects, either." Arthur knew he was only making himself enemy number one in Alfred's book, but he would not simply allow such poor marks.

Sure enough, he was met with a hardened blue glare not unlike his own. The teen tersely stood and swung the backpack resting on the floor over his shoulder, wordlessly evacuating through the front door. That would certainly not be the end of the boy's tantrums, Arthur knew. With a sigh, he cleaned the dishes and counters. After he finally finished straightening up-scrubbing the charcoal from the frying pan had been no easy ordeal-, the man shuffled his slippered feet to the telephone mounted on the wall by the refrigerator.

After flipping through a nearby phonebook, the Englishman dialed the number to Alfred's school, Hetalia High. The cheerful and helpful secretary, "Miss Emma," had informed him that the school did offer tutoring services. Though they did not have access to professionals, exceptional students were given community service hours for playing tutor. After his short conversation with her, completely booking his son's afternoons in a matter of minutes.

Oh, how pleased the athletic teen would surely be when he found one "Kiku Honda" waiting for him at three o'clock every day.

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A/N: What is this I don't even. o_o And seeing as this is Alfred/Kiku-centric, why was it in the "perspective" of Arthur? Hell if I know. ._. It won't be like this next chapter. xDDD;

I was looking up pictures for an Ameripan slideshow/movie thing, and this suddenly hit me. xDDD; WHY. I have so many ideas it's not even funny. ;n; I actually have three other chapter stories I'm brainstorming...and have been for a couple weeks, rather than this one that just decided to happen. D|

SIGH. Anyways. I don't really know where this going atm, but I do have random bits and pieces in my head. 8D

This is pretty much just the intro, also. We shall meet Kiku next chapter. YEY.

We get a little insight into their background, yay. x3 UKfem!Fr if you didn't catch it. Frances = Francis. She took Matthew, Arthur took Alfred. Not going any more into it yet. ;D NO SPOILERS FOR YOU.

Oh, and Emma = Belgium. Not really important. She may show up again...probably not.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

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"Alfred Kirkland?"

The blond's head snapped up, hastily shoving his cell phone into the kangaroo pocket of his hooded pullover. He had been blatantly texting rather than paying attention, obvious from his guilt-ridden expression and wide cerulean eyes. When his teacher was lacking the "way too cheerful to be happy" face, he visibly relaxed. Mr. Braginsky only had his regular creepy smile, meaning he most likely was not in trouble. Adjusting his glasses, he sauntered to the front of the room by means of an aisle between two rows of desks. While Algebra II was by no means his most confident class (as you all already know), football and baseball star Alfred F. Jones-the "Jones" came from his football team when another player compared him to Thomas Jones, fellow running back-would show no fear, even in the face of math and his creepy Russian teacher!

"The guidance office has called you. Try not to miss too much of class; judging by your grades you will need it, yes?" he subtly taunted, almost violet eyes looking down at him like a pampered house cat would a scrawny, dirty mouse. Alfred grunted his accord-he absolutely _abhorred_ that man, and was convinced that his feelings were mutual-then shuffled out into the wide, empty hallway.

However, he would admit that the Commie had been right about one thing; his marks in math were seriously lacking. While he had never really been fond of it or the teacher of the class, something else completely unrelated had been nagging at him. For as long as he could remember, it had been just his dad and he; no siblings or mother to speak of. Alfred never dared to ask either, because if the British man didn't bring it up himself it was obviously an off-limits conversation. He'd had something of a flashback, though, when he'd laid his eyes on a mother-son duo one day. Alfred had been simply eating an ice cream cone-Neapolitan, for your information-, leaning casually and suavely against the side of a building downtown when they walked by.

They were a rather attractive pair, he noticed, with the same wavy tresses. The woman, who had this air of haughtiness around her, had a slightly darker shade of hair than the boy. He seemed like a meek little kid inside, though Alfred pinned him as about the same age as himself. What struck him were the similarities between the three of them. His hair had to have been about the same shade, if not a bit more on the "strawberry blond" side but even more surprising were their identical eye colors. Unfortunately, by the time he'd realized this, they were gone.

Alfred's interest had been piqued; they hadn't only been analogous, but they'd also made him think. It was almost as if he'd seen them somewhere before, a long time ago. As much as he wracked his brain over that Neapolitan cone, however, nothing came to him.

For a week after, they'd been totally driven from his mind. Not until later did they begin to appear in his dreams. In the early ones, he and the other boy were children-no older than five-and they simply played together while both Arthur and the mysterious woman looked on. His child-self had always strained to hear the two strangers' voices, but every time their lips moved, nothing came out.

The next dreams were on the more depressing side, contrasting the happy "memories" that were the old ones. Alfred, now his current age in the dreams, had clung to the other boy as they witnessed the various arguments and fights between the woman and his father. Like the previous ones, he was only able to hear Arthur's voice. It was always some kind of variation of,

_"You're a bloody child, Frances! You're not fit to be a mother; good parents are willing to put their children above everything else, even themselves! Allow me custody of both Alfred and Matthew-"_

The woman-"Frances," Alfred assumed-cut him off, shouting with tears in her eyes. He couldn't hear her, but he pitied her. He was convinced that she couldn't be as horrible as Arthur made her out to be. His father was known for exaggerating-another thing he'd inherited.

The final series of dreams were sad, but what was more notable was the confusion they created. "Matthew," the other boy he guessed, and Frances would just stand before him and mouth at him. Alfred would try to communicate right back, but it seemed like the shy boy opposite him had the same deaf-issues as he did. The woman definitely understood, though; tears welled up in her eyes by simply looking upon Alfred. With her tears came daylight, however, and Alfred would be forced to awake for school.

These dreams had suddenly stopped, though, after only a month of the "visions." He wasn't complaining; they danced around in his head throughout the entire day, distracting and thoroughly stressing him out. One reason they bothered him so was because Alfred felt that his father was involved as well. Afraid of the possible repercussions, however, he never mentioned these occurrences or even the day that had sparked it all.

Still, he couldn't help but feel some kind of connection to these two people. _But who were they?_

"Alfred Kirkland?"

Said teen shook himself from the minor daydream to find himself in the guidance office already. Did he really know the school so well that he could navigate through it during moments of subconsciousness? Alfred, ever the humble one, couldn't help but find that awesome.

"Yeah?" he asked, addressing the pretty secretary with short, curly blond hair.

"Your father just called, and I thought it would be best to inform you now." He felt a minor wave of panic surge through him. What had his father done? Alfred nodded, urging her to finish. "He's set you up with a tutor for Algebra every day after school. Your tutor will be waiting for you in the library at three o'clock." Even with the sweet way she spoke, the boy's face fell. Arthur _had_ been completely serious with that "tutor" threat.

Noticing his disappointment, the kind secretary piped in again, "Kiku is an excellent student and a wonderful teacher, even for a tenth grader. Very cute, too." She let out a little titter at the slight flush in the blond's cheeks as he abruptly stormed from the office. 

* * *

The dark haired teen played with his hands nervously as he waited. He wondered if his "student" was going to show up at all after glancing at the analog clock on the far wall of the library. Kiku had been waiting for a good ten minutes, and tardiness was not something he appreciated. Had he not been getting credit for his "volunteered" services (he was often pressured and/or begged into acting as a tutor), he would have been safe at home already. He wasn't afraid of the boy he was to assist, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a bit intimidated.

Alfred Kirkland wasn't only a whole year and grade above him, but he was also impossibly popular, radically different than Kiku's own predicament. The little attention he got at school was from two seniors, Sadiq and Heracles, who often fought over him. Needless to say, they made the poor kid uncomfortable and forced him to occasionally sit with the strange German-Italian duo.

To put it simply, reputation wasn't his focus in school. He wouldn't be surprised if Alfred had never even seen, let alone _heard_ of him. Though Kiku had no antipathy for the "popular" crowd, he wouldn't be surprised if he, just some nobody, was stood up by the surely busy athlete.

"Hey...Are you Kiku?" a loud, out of breath voice asked from behind him. The Japanese sophomore turned, instinctively scrutinizing Alfred. His tie was slack, hanging loosely around his collar, his white dress shirt was untucked, and instead of the code blazer, the blond wore an old-looking bomber jacket.

"Yes. And...it's fine, but you're late." he replied a bit tersely, yet with some apprehension. He had to be firm with such an underachieving student-he'd been allowed to see the junior's report card-but to protect his own well-being, choose his words carefully.

"Sorry, man. I completely forgot so I had to run all the way from the buses and stuff, and-"

"It's alright, Kirkland." Kiku interjected as he took a seat; he was not going to waste time listening to that silly excuse story. He knew that the other had no wish to be there, as the Belgian secretary had warned him.

Alfred found that she had right about his tutor, though. He didn't normally have "male preferences," but the little Asian boy was nice to look at. That neat, ebony hair was shiny and likely soft, the blond's impulses pressuring him to just reach out and feel it quickly. Thinking quickly-which he only did when flirting or playing sports-, he ran a hand through the short, silky locks.

"D-do you mind-"

"There was just a little cotton fuzzy in your hair, chill out." he grinned, joining his new tutor at the small wooden table. They were in one of the more secluded areas of the library near the documentary and biography section. In other words, where few people would bother them. Each found this advantageous; Kiku picked it so there would be no distractions, but Alfred for a different reason altogether.

The younger male tried to will away the blush on his cheeks-one that his student found endearing-as he took out the material. He raised a thin eyebrow at the groan of disappointment released from the athletic junior. "I-is there a problem, Kirkland?"

"I don't like this subject. Can't we do history or something? I'd love to learn yours." he snickered a bit at the flustered reaction, propping up his head with a palm as he leaned in. Afraid to seem rude, Kiku didn't move and tried to disregard the ridiculously bad "pick-up" line. With a curt shake of his head, the tutor flipped to the appropriate page in the heavy textbook.

"I was just kidding, c'mon, get a sense of hu-"

"Please try to be serious, Kirkland. The sooner you focus, the sooner we can both leave."

With a sigh, he complied-though not after brushing his hand against the smaller, pale one when trading off the pencil. Kiku slapped his upper arm lightly, threatening him with extra work if he tried to pull anything else.

Alfred would have liked this whole "tutoring" deal much better without the math.

* * *

IDK how I did on Kiku's personality, considering it's 2 AM. ;

Anyways...MORE BACKGROUND. Is stuff starting to come together? O: *gasp*

Yeah, it may seem like two different stories within one, but they do kind of "build" off of each other. (Like, how he has to have a tutor because those two "strangers" distract him. x: )

Next chapter will probably be sometime next/this week.

RUSSIAN MATH TEACHERS ARE EVIL. Beware of them. xD JK. Never had one.

There IS a reason why Alfred likes being called "Jones". xDD FOOTBALL. It's the answer to all. (Not really)

So yeah, Alfred suddenly decided he was gay. x| Got a problem with that? Okay. He didn't "suddenly". Maybe he was just bi before or whatever...IDK it doesn't matter this is AMERIPAN. *shot for not making sense*


	3. Author's Note

Hello, faithful readers! If you're reading this right now, you have the patience of a saint. Unfortunately, I bring only bad news. Frankly, I've been incredibly busy since the new school year started up… My absence over the summer has no excuse at all, besides my recent involvement in several roleplay forums. Anyway, because I am a junior in high school, everything is coming down to this, and having to keep up with multiple threads as well as being an admin on one of the forums is incredibly stressful. I'm so so sorry, really, I'm just lazy. I don't have very good excuses…

But the most heartbreaking news has yet to be revealed: my flash drive, on which I store all of my writings, both for school, fan fiction, and roleplaying…

Broke.

I actually cried for a good twenty minutes; that thing has everything on it, literally. It even had a ten-minute long video project on it that was due the next day. Luckily, I managed to find it on the computer, but I can't say the same for any of my unfinished stories, chapters, and character applications.

This is incredibly disappointing and depressing for me, because I thought a good few of the ones I'd started on would be decent stories that I'd get to when I got to them, but… That's just how my life is.

((Although, I probably wasn't going to finish many of my chapter fics anyway… The Ameripan one is the only one I'd really want to continue.))

I'm going to see if anything on it can be recovered sooner or later (since I'm too lazy to drive into town), since I'm not sure in what way it is broken, but I'm really not expecting a positive reply back on it.

I am so so sorry this happened, I wish I could have prevented it. Well, I know better than to save everything on one old, likely worn out jump drive now.

However, I have been kind of planning out and thinking about a new fan fiction idea involving (surprise, surprise) Hetalia, and more specifically, Poland. Since he's my favorite and deserves all the love in the world. Yet in the story, I plan to completely and totally break him and make him cry and oh I really want to write this. Except at the moment I just have random dialogue and actions and description all chat-speak-ly written. xD Like "/looks at with astonishment, face going pale." Mostly because it's on my iPod's Notes application and I suck at writing on it, but.

So look out for that in the likely distant future! It'd be pretty long, since it's going to be all dramatic with multiple pairings though I'm not quite sure how it'll end yet. I should just be a jerk and end it with Poland being forever alone. 8D Actually no my Polandmuse would get all depressed, which makes me all depressed. :c

I also may do a little miniseries of drabbles and stuff since they're easy and I still want to write something, even if I can't afford to focus on big full-length fics.

Wish me luck with the flash drive, and I hope to upload something sometime soon for y'all!

Also thank you for reading all of that. xD This A/N is longer than the actual stories, ahahaha! Mostly because I like to complain about my life. And talk.


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